Bed of Roses by Rebecca Paisley

Author:Rebecca Paisley [Paisley, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: victorian romance, western romance, cowboy romance, gunslinger, witch
Publisher: Amber House Books, LLC
Published: 2015-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Sawyer didn’t say a word. He merely grabbed the two lanterns and walked out of the barn and into the night, uncaring that his long, quick stride made it difficult for Zafiro to follow along.

Sensing that a volatile mood lurked just beneath the surface of his silence, Zafiro quietly followed him into the cabin, whereupon he marched straight up to Tia, who was busy patting out potato cakes and slipping them into a pan of hot grease over the fire. A platter of freshly fried cakes sat on the table where she worked, and as the other cakes finished cooking she continued to add them to the platter.

“Where is Lorenzo?” Sawyer demanded.

Tia’s patting hands stopped in mid-action. “I do not like your tone of voice, niña.” She set down the cake, picked up a long wooden spoon, and pointed it at his face. “If you talk to me like that again, I will—”

Sawyer muttered a string of profanities under his breath and stormed toward the staircase.

“Do not go so fast, Sawyer!” Zafiro pleaded, the handcuff cutting into her wrist. “You are hurting—”

“You should have thought of that before you locked us together!” At the top of the stairs he stopped and turned toward her. “If Lorenzo can’t pick this lock how do you think we’re going to get out of these? These cuffs might be old, Zafiro, but they’re made of solid steel!”

“I would not have had to put them on you if you had listened to me when I first tried to talk to you! It was the only way—”

“You—”

“Step aside, Zafiro, and I will smash his face!” Maclovio boomed as he exited the room he shared with Pedro and Lorenzo. A bottle in his hand, he staggered into the hall, swinging his fist while still a good six feet away from Sawyer.

Zafiro quickly moved between the two men. Pushing the wobbly Maclovio aside, she pulled Sawyer into the room Maclovio had left and saw Pedro and Lorenzo inside.

“Lorenzo!” she shouted at the old man.

Curled up in a ball on the sagging bed with Mariposa, Lorenzo continued to snore.

“He is asleep,” Pedro announced from his spot on the floor, where he was busy adding to his net. “Dreaming about a land flowing with milk and honey. Poor Lorenzo, he is afraid that I am going to turn him into a pillar of salt. I thought about doing that when he would not help me get my net up here. But I did not do it. Maclovio brought my net up here for me. To thank Maclovio for his help, I am going to wash his feet with my hair and—”

“Lorenzo!” Sawyer shouted. He pulled Zafiro to the bed and shook Lorenzo’s shoulder.

The old man opened his eyes and smiled. “Tia is making potato cakes and she said I could have as many as I wanted. There is no one in the world who can make potato cakes like Tia—”

“Can you open this lock?” Sawyer shouted into the old man’s ear.

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